


To Repair a Broken Melody

by kathoo



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Coping Mechanisms, F/F, Human K1-B0 (Dangan Ronpa), Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Iruma Miu's Dirty Mouth, M/M, Minor Violence, Multi, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Running Away, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-04-25 17:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14383791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathoo/pseuds/kathoo
Summary: “Yumeno-san,” Tsumugi acknowledged, polite. “How can I help you? Are things alright down there?”“Maybe you’d know if you’d bother to check up on the people you threw into a killing game,” Himiko snapped before she could stop herself. Regaining her composure, she continued, “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.".Or, the aftermath of the killing game. One chapter per character perspective.





	1. from a former magician

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Heaven's Gate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13438602) by [cosmicpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicpoet/pseuds/cosmicpoet). 



> In all honesty, this wasn't really entirely _inspired_ by Heaven's Gate. This was something that I began writing a long time ago, but seeing Heaven's Gate really made me take on the initiative to finish it! I realized how similar the concepts were, so it felt wrong not to credit it somehow! (In the chance that you haven't read it, you should. It's amazing!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Himiko tries to fix the unfixable.

Himiko Yumeno wasn't a stranger to others hurting her. Whether intentional or not, it happened. She understood that there were people who would hurt her and others. What she didn't understand, however, was how she could possibly hurt herself in the ways that she had.

Who in their right mind would sign up for a killing game? Who in their right mind would play with death?

Those unrelenting thoughts were most likely what lead her to the office of Tsumugi Shirogane. Tsumugi was far off from everyone else. While those who had awoken stayed in a building meant specifically for them, Tsumugi had an office in an entirely separate building. Both were properties of Team Danganronpa. (Danganronpa owned their souls, after all).

Himiko remembered when Tsumugi had first woken up along the rest of them. "Feel free to call on me for anything," she had said, all fake smiles. She had waved in a specific manner; almost as if she was trying to imitate Junko Enoshima. Tsumugi would never be anything like the original, but Himiko would be lying if she said that Tsumugi wasn't a good copycat. _("I can hold my head up high as a cosplaycat criminal," Tsumugi had said in the simulation)._

“Yumeno-san,” Tsumugi acknowledged, polite. “How can I help you? Are things alright down there?”

“Maybe you’d know if you’d bother to check up on the people you threw into a killing game,” Himiko snapped before she could stop herself. Regaining her composure, she continued, “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for."

Tsumugi’s mouth went into a thin line. Himiko didn’t know if she’d hit a nerve, but she hoped that she did. Anything to prove that Tsumugi was capable of feeling actual, human emotions. Anything to prove that her best friend after Angie’s death wasn’t an empty shell of a human being. “Allow me to repeat my first question. How can I help you?”

Himiko sighed. Running after a girl who had gone missing long ago wasn’t worth it. Especially not now, when that wasn’t what she came here for. “You have all my records, right? Like… like my real name, my interview, and stuff like that?”

Tsumugi’s blank stare did not waver. Maybe she was the real Ultimate Robot. “Before you entered, you signed an agreement. In the chance that the simulation was successful, and all your bodies could be recovered, you would have to surrender your previous identities for your new ones. Or… ‘would’ is the wrong word. You gave up all your rights to the name you used to have and who you used to be long ago. Your name is Himiko Yumeno, now, and you are who you are right now.”

The forceful manner of the words made rage boil inside of Himiko. Tsumugi, Himiko’s former best friend, was going to sit here and tell her who the hell she was after all she’d done to them? But she had to keep a calm head- she didn’t want to jeopardize everything and have Tsumugi kick her out of her office. “Maybe so. But I still have the right to know who I used to be. Himiko Yumeno may be my legal name, but you can’t keep any files you have on past self away from me if I request them.”

Tsumugi mutters something that sounded like “I hate people who read the fine print”, but there was no way to know for sure. Tsumugi looked her in the eye for a long while, and though Himiko wanted to scream at this imposter inside of Tsumugi’s body, she knew that she had come to term with the real Tsumugi a long time ago.

“Fine,” Tsumugi relented. “I don’t know where they are as of right now. I’ll have someone send whatever I have on you later on today.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come down for a visit?” Himiko mocked, a fake smile on her face. “Toujou-san makes a mean apple pie.”

Tsumugi allowed a grimace to cover her face, and Himiko was more relieved than she should’ve been. At least Tsumugi wasn’t devoid of emotion. “Goodbye, Yumeno-san.”

* * *

Tsumugi didn’t lie to her. Surely enough, someone came by her room and dropped off a file in yellow packaging as well as a notebook of some sort. Himiko doubted with all of her being that it was all that Tsumugi had on her, but she wouldn’t push it for now. Everything was between them was painfully forced and strained anyway. One more encounter might kill Himiko.

Opening up the yellow file, she was expecting something that had all her information on it. She was not, however, expecting it to be exactly that but something else entirely. It had all of her information, sure, but… at end were notes that someone with neat handwriting had taken about her personality. There was only one thing this could possibly be: Tsumugi’s notes on her during her interview.

Ryouko Masako. That was her name. She didn't like it. It sounded plain. Then again, that was probably what she was, right?

She skimmed over the things she already knew like her age, and her weight. She goes all the way to the end, where Tsumugi had things scribbled down.

 _\- simple taste, simple style. a rather typical person upon first glance._  
_\- says that she wants to be anything that will give her a purpose in life. perhaps now she feels like life doesn’t hold a purpose for her? that could be good for her character if she were to get accepted._  
\- _she speaks in a monotone voice, like she’s bored or tired. tired… since chiaki’s character we’ve yet to have another sleepy character. maybe we need to bring that back._  
_\- she claims that she’s “longing for a future but doesn’t feel like living long enough to get there.” she clearly doesn’t plan on being_ _a survivor_.  
_\- despite her lack of enthusiasm for the show, she may just be what we need. definitely going to recommend her._

A simple person who had an intense desire to be useful, but was too bored with life to want to get that far. Or… was she? What she showed Tsumugi didn’t have to be her. Maybe it was a facade she put up to convince Tsumugi to cast her. If Tsumugi lied to her, then it was a satisfying to think of the possibility that she had lied to Tsumugi, as well.

But opening the notebook, that didn’t seem to be the case.

_Dear Diary,_

_I’m starting one of these because the therapist said that it’s the best way to let my emotions loose. Doesn’t he understand that my problem isn’t about what I’m feeling? It’s about what I can’t feel. I feel empty, today, and it feels like I always will. I don’t have anything else to write to a meaningless book in this meaningless world._

Himiko flipped the page.

_Dear Diary,_

_I need to keep writing this so my mother will get off my back. She doesn’t actually read it, because she’s definitely not allowed to, but just seeing the words written on a page comforts her. She’s so predictable and typical. She loves me, but I can’t love someone who’s just another speck in the vast mountain of dust that is the human race. Maybe that’s why I don’t love myself, either. I’m ending it before I actually realize something about myself. I don’t want to give my therapist the satisfaction._

And flipped the page.

_Dear Diary,_

_I have to write about something that I did today, apparently. I’m tired of these common and typical prompts meant to help me. I know what I did today, and looking back on something boring never made anyone feel better. Today I went to school and learned absolutely nothing. But that’s not new. I never learn anything._

And flipped the page.

_Dear Diary,_

_Today I have to write about something new in my life. Luckily for my therapist’s list of boring prompts, this one I actually have an answer to. Everyone is talking about Danganronpa. I usually hate things that everyone loves, but the idea of a killing game got me intrigued. The raw emotion that the people in it felt… I envy that. I want to feel like that._

And flipped the page. And flipped the page. And flipped the page. And flipped the page.

_Dear Diary,_

_I’m not writing this for my therapist or my mother. I’m writing it as a goodbye to myself. The website said that a good strategy to find out whether I really want to do this or not is to write down a letter to someone explaining to someone why I’m doing this, and if I can convince them, then I know I should do this. I guess the one I’m convincing here is myself, though._

_I’m auditioning for Danganronpa. All the feelings and emotions that they feel… I want that. I want to be in a game where I can be more than a useless person in a useless world. And more than that… I want to be someone new. I want to be someone who’s anybody but me. I hate my life, and I hate that I hate my life, and I hate everything. I want to be someone new. I want to be someone who doesn’t hate everything upon the first glance._

_I don’t care if that’s too much to ask. There’s nothing here for me, anyway. I don’t know why I thought I needed to convince myself, because I don’t. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. Not even me. I guess this is the last time, so bye, diary. You’re nothing, just like me, but I think that your blank meaningless pages hold more vibrence than anyone else in my life. Isn’t that sad?_

Ryouko Masako. A girl who was undoubtedly destined to suffer a cruel fate the second she was born. Not because of the cruelty around her, but because of her own rotten personality. She had a mother who loved her, and she threw it all away in the name of meaning. Purpose was such a complex concept, anyway. What right did she or anyone else have to dictate what was purposeful and what wasn’t?

Ryouko Masako. Himiko Yumeno. They both lived in the same body, but one was long dead before the other was born.

Himiko looked through the yellow envelope once more to make sure that nothing was missed, and sure enough when she dug inside, there was a single long sticky note at the bottom.

_Hello, Yumeno-san. I forgot to mention it to you all earlier, but Team Danganronpa is currently thinking about getting you all out of our care as fast as possible. Most of you are not in the clear to leave yet, mostly regarding your mental health, but some of you are fine to leave. As you know, the sum of money you were given is yours to use. You may go anywhere you wish. However, there are a few apartment buildings that are nearby in case you want to stay in the area for your friends. I’ll write a list of the people who are in the clear to go on the back for you. Only share this with these people. Remember: once you leave, you cannot move back in for any reasons. Once you’re gone, you’re gone. I know it may sound like betraying your friends in some way, but be honest with yourself when thinking about this. Do you really want to keep living here, of all places?_

_Think about it. I know that I may be only the mastermind in your eyes, but we were friends once upon a time, weren't we? I don't mean to delve deep into our killing game friendship, but I’m looking out for you, even when you don't see it. Consider moving out._

_With Love,_

_Tsumugi_

On the back of the sticky note were the names of the people in the clear to leave, just as Tsumugi had said. There was her own name, Shuichi’s, Kaede’s, Angie’s, and Maki’s.

She crumpled up the sticky note and threw it in the garbage.

* * *

“Hey,” she said awkwardly to the girl who had just walked into the kitchen. Tenko Chabashira was the one person who always believed in Himiko, no matter what. Tenko Chabashira was the one person that she had wanted to see more than anyone else after her death.

And now that she had her again, it wasn’t all that she hoped it would be.

“Hi,” Tenko greeted, not even meeting her eyes. Himiko knew what it looked like when someone wanted to hurry up an interaction as much as possible. It was the look that she herself used to wear often. Back when all she ever wanted to do was sleep, and she didn’t care if she wasted away.

Seeing the same look on Tenko made Himiko’s heart ache more than she thought it would. It had been weeks, but Tenko still hadn’t been the same. It was painful, and Himiko wanted to reach out to her, but nothing ever seemed to work. Blame it on Himiko’s inability to do anything right, but it was disheartening to say the least.

Was this some sort of payback? It was like they had switched roles entirely. Tenko kept shying away from any and all interaction regarding Himiko, and Himiko just wanted the girl who had gone under the cage instead of her to run up to her and give her a big hug.

Instead, she was face to face with an imposter who had Tenko’s appearance, but not spirit.

“What are you looking for?” Himiko asked casually, trying anything and everything that she had inside her to bring Tenko to speak to her again.

“I don’t know.” It’s a lie, and they both know it. But Himiko would never call her out on it, and Tenko knew that. “I was just hungry. But there’s nothing good here, so I’ll just be on my way.”

Tenko was going to leave now, because that’s all she ever did anymore. She left in the killing game, and she was leaving again, now. Himiko wasn’t sure which one hurt more.

“There’s some leftover miso soup in the fridge,” Himiko called out quickly, before Tenko could leave. “I know it’s your favorite. I could heat it up for you- it’s no trouble, since I’m heating up some for myself. We can eat together.”

“I don’t like miso soup, anymore,” Tenko told her, looking towards the blank wall. They both knew there was nothing interesting there. “It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.”

Himiko ended up getting rid of all of the soup.

* * *

Himiko wasn't expecting there to be a knock at her door at eleven in the night, but then again, none of them really had healthy sleeping habits. (How could they when nightmares plagued their dreams?)

She groggily opened the door. She was ready to yell at whoever knocked, but her irritation disappeared the second she saw the face of Angie Yonaga.

“Yonaga-san,” she greeted. “I know I said that you could talk to me whenever you needed to, but, like, it better be good.”

Angie only laughed. It wasn't a real laugh, really- it was just noise to fill in a space. “It is good to see you as well, Yumeno-chan! And no, I don't need to talk to you about anything tonight, silly! It’s something else.”

Himiko rubbed at her left eye with a tired hand. Her head ached terribly. She wanted to hit her head with her fist to distract her from the internal pain, but she didn't want to make Angie question her. “Do you need to come in?”

“No, no.” Angie shook her head. “Everyone else is waiting in the lounge, after all!”

Himiko raised an eyebrow. “You woke everyone up… at this time?”

Angie nodded, her crystal cold eyes gleaming in the lighting of Himiko’s room. If Himiko wasn't so used to Angie’s company, it might have freaked her out. “Yep! You see, for the last few weeks I’ve been doodling small moments among other people that I witness. For example, one of them is you and Saihara-kun playing games on the television! My… ah, therapist told me to do these. They said it would help me come to terms with this new life in a better way. Recently, out of boredom, I transformed all of these drawings into paintings! It took quite some time to try to draw it exactly as I had, but they are all complete, now. I thought that since you all are the center of the paintings, it would only be right to show them to you all…”

“I…” Himiko began, at a loss for words. “This is a great idea, Yonaga-san. I can’t wait to see them. I don't know how Saihara-kun is going to feel when he realizes that you captured me beating him at video games, though.”

* * *

Everyone was mostly pleased to see Angie’s work. Kaito claimed that Angie drew him in his full glory, while Ryouma complained that Angie’s paintings didn’t do his face justice. Himiko, however, loves each and every single one.

There was one that captures the moment that Kaede finally beat Shuichi at chess. (He had let her win, but nobody would ever tell her that). There was another that shows the time that Kaito was finally able to return a serve from Ryouma himself. Another showed Kirumi teaching Maki the basics of baking cookies. Himiko’s personal favorite, however, was a painting that showed Himiko placing cards down on a table. She was most likely performing a card trick or something of the sort, but the way that Angie drew her expression on top if everything… There was something so real and so genuine about it that she couldn't quite place.

“These are wonderful!” Kaede complimented, leaning in to take .a closer look at a picture of her and Miu. “You're incredibly talented, Yonaga-san.”

“Oh,” Angie replied. “Well. Talent, maybe. I shouldn't be getting the credit for it, though.” They all knew that she wasn't talking about Atua.

Every painting held a significant meaning to it. It was something wonderful and simple that made all of their faces light up. Something did catch Himiko’s eyes, however.

It was Tenko. Not the real Tenko- the Tenko in the paintings. Angie drew them perfectly, but… There was an abundance of how many times Tenko showed up. It was subtle with the way that they were mixed in along with everything else, but anything related to Tenko would always catch Himiko’s eyes. There were… so many. Small moments to laughable events, Tenko was there.

“Yonaga-san,” Himiko addressed, pulling Angie to the side.

“Yes?” Angie asked. “Do you like them?”

“They’re wonderful,” Himiko answered, “but… Chabashira-san sure does show up a lot, doesn't she?”

“Oh?” Angie brushed the topic off. “I didn't notice. Silly me.”

Angie was always a casual liar, but it hurt more then than it ever had before.

* * *

Before any of them could leave the lounge, Kaito demanded that everyone stay. “We all need some bonding time,” he had said. “We’re never gonna get better if we don't start back at step one: learning to let others help us.”

Both Kaede and Gonta had immediately agreed, and that sealed the deal for the rest of them. There was no escaping the jaws of friendship.

“What are we going to do?” Kirumi questioned. “I had planned to get some cleaning done before the end of the night, so I would appreciate if-”

“Nope!” Kaito insisted. “Forget about the cleaning. Right now we’re all together, and that's more important, right?”

Kirumi looked like she wanted to disagree, but she only sighed. “If… that is what you all prefer, then…”

“Let me repeat Toujou-san’s question,” Korekiyo spoke up, voice eerily calm. “What shall we be doing?”

“Momota-chan doesn't actually know,” Kokichi accused, grinning. “He just gathered us all together just because he wanted to be the hero. But, he doesn't even know how he’ll be saving us. What a loser!”

“Shut up,” Maki snapped. “At least he's doing something. And since you’re so inclined to rattle your mouth off, why don't you tell us what we should be doing?”

“Geez, Harumaki,” Kokichi whined. “No need to be so cold. And we’re too old for games, y’know? We saw each other die right before our eyes. I think that our time to have fun and be teenagers ended a while ago, don’tcha think?”

That silenced the entire room. A heavy weight seemed to lie on all of them. The weight of the truth? The weight of a lie? It wasn't possible to know.

Their time as kids couldn't be up… could it?

“Stupid boy,” Tenko hissed. “Stop being insensitive. For once we decided that we wanted to do something fun, and you’re not going to mess it up for everyone else.”

“There goes Chabashira-chan, being sexist as always.” Kokichi sighed. “You’re the dumbest out of us all, did you know? Besides Momota-chan, of course. You chased after Yumeno-chan since the beginning, even though she clearly hated you. And even now, you’re in denial of the truth. You still believe that there’s someone out there who will love you. When will you just accept that you’re unlovable? You’re going to be lonely forever, and ever, and ever…”

Tenko got up in an instant and left the room. Her sneakers creaked against the wooden floor, and almost everyone winced. Tenko couldn't _actually_ believe any of that... Could she? Kokichi was a liar. He lied, and he lied, and he lied…

 _So does everyone else_ , she thought for a brief moment, and hen pushed it to the back of her head.

Tenko wouldn't be lonely. Who wouldn't love someone like her?

“Ouma-kun,” Angie said in a sweet, soft voice. “I don't know if there’s really a god out there, but if there is, I hope they send you to hell.”

Kokichi practically cackled. “Don't worry, Yonaga-chan! I’m already going.”

People open their mouths to scold Kokichi, to yell at him, to blame him, but Himiko doesn't plan on staying for it. She stood up from the beige couch she was sitting on and followed Tenko.

* * *

“Go away,” was the response she got when she knocked on Tenko’s door.

“It’s Himiko,” she told her, unsure if that would persuade or dissuade Tenko from opening the door. “I just… I just want to talk, okay?”

“I don't,” was the sharp reply she was given. “No… I’m sorry. That was way too harsh of me. It doesn't have anything to do with you, Yumeno-san, alright? It’s all on me. Don't bother worrying about me.”

Himiko landed against the door, her small frame barely making a noise. “Chabashira-san… I want to talk to you. Seriously. We have way too many things we need to clear up. We all love you, you know that? You’re not gonna be lonely. I want to fix things between you and I.”

She heard shuffling in the room for a moment before Tenko finally said, “Not now. Tomorrow. I’m too tired for this. I need some sleep. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Himiko warned. “Don't back out on me.”

She wanted to tell Tenko everything. About Ryouko, about Tsumugi, about her diary... everything. She wanted to be as close to Tenko as they never got the chance to in the killing game.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Yumeno-san.”

* * *

In the early hours of morning, it was Himiko’s stomach that got her up. She hadn't eaten because of the encounter with Tenko, so it was natural that she would be hungry. She really didn't feel like getting up… but she couldn't fall back asleep unless she ate. There was no way she was going to look like a zombie when she finally confronted Tenko tomorrow.

Making her way down the stairs, she heard voices coming from the kitchen. Curious as to why these people would be up so late, she leaned in by the kitchen door.

“You’re so awful, sometimes,” someone said in a tired tone. It was undoubtedly Shuichi. She couldn't miss the feminine, yet somehow undoubtedly male voice anywhere.

“I don't know what you mean,” another voice- Kokichi- spoke. “I’m practically an angel.”

“I don’t know what happened, before, but you’re obviously upset about something,” Shuichi accused. “And you took it out on Chabashira-san. I just… How could you say something like that to her?”

“Well, you said it before, didn't you?” Kokichi questioned. “I’m awful.”

Shuichi sighed. “Ouma-kun… You have to apologize to her.”

“What for?” Kokichi inquired, innocence lacing through his voice. “Telling the truth? I don't plan on that.”

“Stop, please,” Shuichi begged. “Just be honest with me. Only this once.”

“That’s no fun, though,” Kokichi complained. His voice was strained. Even the best liar has his off moments, she thought. “I don't know why you keep trying to figure me out. Aren't you bored of me, already?”

“No,” Shuichi denied. “That’s… That’s not it. I want to help you, Ouma-kun.”

“Aww, Saihara-chan!” Kokichi spoke in a sickly sweet tone. “That’s so sweet! I can't be helped, though. It just _crushes_ me every day, you know?”

Himiko couldn't see anything, but she knew by the sudden noise of metal clanging that Shuichi must’ve flinched and hit a something. “Ouma-kun,” he said warily. “That’s not funny.”

Kokichi only giggled. “Humor is subjective, Saihara-chan. You’re just no fun.”

“I can't understand you,” Shuichi murmured, after a long bear of silence. “I want to help you with whatever you’re going through, but I can't if I don't understand what’s going on.”

“Seriously, stop trying to figure me out,” Kokichi snapped. “You’re not a fucking detective. Not anymore. Everything in that simulation was a lie, so give it a rest. I don't need to be saved. Especially not from you. You saw your own audition tape, didn't you? You were a Danganronpa fanatic. Isn't it so ironic that now you need to help everyone get up from it?”

Himiko hands were shaking, and she wasn't even in the same room as them. She shouldn't be listening to something like this… But, she couldn't pull herself away if she tried.

“D-Don't talk about me like that,” Shuichi stuttered. “I’m not that same person. I’m not. I ended Danganronpa… That’s who I am, now.”

“Oh, please,” Kokichi returned. “You and I both know that’s not true. Danganronpa is going on a break because they know that in four months or so, everyone will come back. They’ll all be bored to death without their precious Danganronpa. You only delayed the inevitable process.”

Himiko mustered up the courage to peer through the small opening the door to the kitchen had. Shuichi’s right arm was shaking as he placed the spoon he had previously had in hand down.

“A-Alright,” Shuichi whispered. “I’m going upstairs. To _my_ room. I can’t do this, right now. Not anymore.” Shuichi turned to walk out, but Kokichi grabbed his wrist before he was out of range.

“Wait,” Kokichi called. “Fine, forget what I said. Whatever. Who cares, anyway? Just… stay with me, tonight.”

Shuichi shook his head. “I’m tired of forgiving you every single time. You need to apologize to Chabashira-san, and… When you’re ready to talk about what’s really bothering you, then feel free. I just… need to clear my head for a little while.”

Kokichi’s grip only tightened around Shuichi’s wrist. “Don't go.”

Shuichi pulled his wrist out of Kokichi’s grasp. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Himiko silently made her way upstairs, careful not to be heard. She shut her door quietly so that Shuichi wouldn't know she was there when he came up.

She knew for a fact that Kokichi had nightmares. She’d heard him wake up restlessly before. The walls were thin. She thought he’d been getting better, though; but it must've been because of Shuichi.

Did that mean they'd been sharing a room? And… for how long?

It really wasn't her business. They weren’t harming anyone. (Her stomach, however, disagreed).

* * *

When morning came, she found that she wasn't hungry at all. She definitely needed to eat, but… She couldn't bring herself to do it right now. She wanted to get up and wait for Tenko.

…She was really pathetic.

“Yumeno-san,” a voice called from outside her door. Maki’s. “Can I come in?”

“Yep,” she called back, “it’s unlocked.” Himiko ran a hand through her messy hair and threw her covers off. She was only wearing a thin shirt sleeve shirt and shorts, but… It wasn't like she really had anything to show off in particular, anyway.

Maki stepped into her room, cautious and calculated. Himiko raised an eyebrow. “What’s up, Harumaki?”

The nickname didn’t change the look on Maki’s face, and that was what scared her most of all. “Himiko,” Maki spoke. Maki used her first name. Maki had never done that before. “Chabashira-san ran away.”

And just as it seemed like things were going to repair themselves, even the smallest fragments shattered once more.

There really weren't any happy endings, were there? Not for Ryouko, and not for Himiko.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dear Himiko,_
> 
> _I'm sorry. Words will never express how sorry I am. There are so many things I have to say, but I need to hurry this up so I can leave before Toujou-san wakes up._
> 
> _I was so afraid of disappointing you that I ended up avoiding you, and that was unforgivable. Maybe one day our paths will cross again. I really, really hope they do._
> 
> _I always did love you. Remember that. You grew so much in the killing game... and I know that you'll only continue to grow. But, before you changed without me, and I know you can do it again. Tell Harukawa-san I said thank you for all the times she talked with me, and tell Akamatsu-san I said thank you for making me smile, even on the days I was feeling awful._
> 
> _And thank you, Himiko, for being there. You're gorgeous just the way you are, and I hope that nothing ever makes you lose sight of that._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Tenko_


	2. from a former inventor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miu wants to find the her that _she_ wants to be rather than the her that Danganronpa created.

Miu Iruma could admit that she wasn't the most pleasant person at all times. She was generally vulgar and horribly critical. And, while she would never admit that her life was anything other than graceful and adventurous, those traits would seep into her everyday life.

“Fuck!” she yelled as her alarm started beeping. Even though it pissed her off on a daily basis, she had never brought herself to actually get rid of it. Part of her enjoyed having a reason to scream at something early in the morning. It was genuinely annoying, but it made her feel better. It was a dysfunctional system, maybe, but she didn’t care.

Today was Saturday, right? She shouldn't have anything in particular to do today. A day off sounded- no, that wasn't right. She had her fucking therapist today. He was ugly and useless, in her opinion, but that changed absolutely nothing. Until he confirmed that she was stable enough to leave she’d be bound to this place for goddamn ever, so she had to suck up to him. He never realized that despite all of their conversations, she wasn't getting any better. He was dumber than the loud-mouthed astronaut right across the hall.

Great. Now she had to leave her bed. She really, really didn’t want to do that. Maybe she could not show, and then her therapist would assume that she was sick or some shit. She wanted to lie down in the comfortable nest that was her bed, and not get ready for some dumbass who didn’t understand her in the slightest bit.

“Iruma-san?” a soft, tentative voice called from outside her door. It was Kaediot. “Your therapy session is in forty five minutes. Toujou-san made everyone breakfast today. Um… S-Shirogane-san is here, too… She has something to announce. Just… come down, quickly.”

Tsumugi? What the fuck did she want? She hadn't swung by since she woke up from the simulation along with the rest of them. The last time she came around was because she needed to do a mandatory check-up on how things were, and even then it didn’t last even a good five minutes. It was short and brief, but her presence was there long after her departure. (If she had an audience inside her thoughts, she probably would've added something similar to, “like all the handjobs I give to the boys.”)

“I’m fuckin’ coming, Bakamatsu,” she replied, and her voice sounded more like a homeless old woman and not as much like a gorgeous, youthful queen who had just awoken from her deep yet calm slumber. “Gimme a few minutes. The gorgeous girl genius just woke up, and not even she can jump out of bed like Kirumom.”

Instead of her usual giggling at Miu’s antics, Miu heard Kaede shuffle outside the door. “Okay. Be quick.” Miu listened to Kaede’s footsteps leave her door, and she was more than disappointed that she never got to say, “How do you think I did boys in between classes?”

Boys… All if her dirty jokes were centered around boys. In reality, there was no boy she had ever really liked. Like, in a genuine way. They were just… there. An audience. No boy had ever stood out to her as “the one”, and Miu was sure that it wasn't happening anytime soon. There was also the possibility of a girl… She’d be lying if she said that she had never entertained the thought, but in today’s fucked up society if she was ever open about it then her life would pretty much be decided for her.

Same-sex marriage was illegal, anyway. She could get all lovey-dovey with a girl all she wanted, but nothing could ever really blossom from it. In a world like this, once people had their minds set on something, it was done for. And people were more than sure that homosexual couples were fucking disgusting.

…When did she start thinking about that? She was definitely a ‘one thought leads to another leads to another’ kind of person, but she still felt like she should feel shame for even thinking of getting close with another girl.

Reluctantly, Miu finally pushed herself out of bed.

* * *

The dining room’s atmosphere was a mix of deep tension and awkwardness. Everyone was already there when she arrived, giving her annoyed looks for making her wait. She pretended not to care, but the way that Korekiyo scoffed dug into her more than she’d like to admit.

Tsumugi was sitting in center seat of the table. She was sitting tall, but Miu could see her hand fidget. It was easy for her to see beyond the Tsumugi’s façade. They were similar, in that aspect. They were both pretending to have absolute control when in reality they didn’t know what to do. She could lie to everyone in the world, but Miu couldn't escape that truth.

“Hello,” Tsumugi addressed all of them. “Um… It’s nice to see you all…”

“Don’t bother,” Himiko interrupted. “It’s a little late for that. Just tell them.” Did Himiko already know? What the fuck was going on?”

Tsumugi flinched at that, but soon regained her calm expression. “Something very unfortunate occurred last night. It has come to our attention that Chabashira-san is… No longer present with us. We’re looking to resolve the issue, but I can’t promise anyone anything.”

There was a long painful moment of silence, before Miu finally barked, “What the fuck? Chabashira-san ran away?” She used Tenko’s proper name, which Miu absolutely never did. But, there was no way she could insult Tenko right now.

“Yes,” Tsumugi confirmed. The entire room erupted into chaos.

There were shouts of “How is that possible?”, “You can't be serious”, and “This is all your fault!” from all sides. Tsumugi looked horribly overwhelmed; she was biting her lip and glancing at the door constantly, as if she might make a run for it at any moment.

“How could you have let that happen?” Angie yelled. “You… We were left in your care! How could you have not stopped this?”

“There was n-no way to prevent it at three in the morning,” Tsumugi defended, her voice weak. “There was nothing anyone could do.”

“That can’t be true,” Ryouma denied. “This… This is all your fault. You’re supposed to… God, I don't know, do _something_.”

“What the hell could I have done?!” Tsumugi screamed, a sudden change that made all of them flinch. _She snapped_ , Miu thought. _It was bound to happen soon, anyway._ Tsumugi then covered her mouth with her hand, letting herself regain her breathing. “I apologize. But… I don't live here. You all do. Why didn’t any of _you_ do anything? You couldn't have. And I'm no different.”

Almost everyone opened their mouths to argue and yell, but before anyone could get more than a syllable out, Miu shouted, “Shut the fuck up!” It did the trick better than any of Himiko’s dumbass curses. “All of you are so goddamn annoying! Do you know anything about where she fuckin’ is, Shitrogane?” Not one of her best insults, but now wasn't exactly the time to worry about that.

Tsumugi shook her head. “We’re searching for her. We’ll do our best to return her. She’s not allowed to leave yet until we’ve confirmed her mental health, so we can get the police involved. She can’t be far. It's only been four hours…”

“God,” Angie muttered. Did this bitch still fucking think that Atua was real? You’d think she’d get over it when Shinguuji hit her over her head with a floorboard. …Then again, Angie hadn't even mentioned Atua by name since she’d woken up. “This killing game… It is your fault we are here.”

“That’s not true,” Kaito denied, and all heads whipped around to stare at him. “Look, all I’m sayin’ is that we can’t get fuckin’ mad her for the killing game. We chose to… to audition for it, so we have to deal with the consequences. Shirogane didn’t throw us into a killing game by chance. We can hate her for lying to us, and we can hate her for pretending to be our friend… but, we can’t hate her for the killing game.”

“It’s not like it matters, anyway,” Maki added, staring at the table, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “The killing game is over. We can point fingers all we want, but we’ve already been fucked up. I don't know what you guys are trying to achieve by mindlessly yelling. It’s annoying.”

Angie looked like she desperately wanted to say something, but she never did. It was a smart move, considering that arguing with Maki was not an easy feat. Although, in a sense, that did give Maki power. Maybe if Maki cared enough, she could do whatever she wanted and no one besides the space idiot would dare to question her.

“I’ll be on my way,” Tsumugi muttered. “I’ll keep you guys updated on our progress in finding Tenko. That's all."

Tenko. Tenko was gone. She was gone, and they were all completely powerless to do anything about it.

* * *

“One of your friends ran away, I heard,” her therapist told her. “I’m sorry. Something like that happened to me, once.” _You don't fucking know half of it_ , she thought bitterly. She hated it when people tried to empathize with her. She was in a killing game, and nobody in the goddamn world could ever understand how that had felt.

She put on a fake smile. It was all so she could get released, eventually. “It is what it is. I’m sure she’ll come back.” Would Tenko actually come back? Fuck if she knew. She kind of hoped she wouldn’t. Tenko clearly wasn't happy here… And maybe, just maybe, she could be happy somewhere else.

“How are you doing?” he asked her. Miu wanted to find one good thing about him, but there was nothing. He was unattractive and unworthy of a job as a therapist.

“Good,” she answered, her hands twitching. God, she’d rather be anywhere else in the entire world.

Her therapist hummed. “Today, if it’s not too much at once, I wanted to speak with you about… the other people who died in the simulation. You lived for quite a long time, compared to most others. Whose death hurt you the most?”

Miu’s smile faltered, and she began looking at her hands. Honesty. She needed to be honest, and she’d be another step closer to never having to go to another therapy session in her life. “I-I don't know. Toujou-san was pretty important to me, but… That was because she was like a mother. I don't think it had to do with her, specifically. Uh…” Miu closed her eyes, and envisioned a calm, soothing setting. Like… the beach during the sunset. She was on the warm sand and the slight breeze of the ocean was grazing over her skin. She was with someone she loved, and that person loved her, too. “A-Akamatsu-san, I guess. I dunno, she just… She made me feel important. She made me feel like I was special, even when everyone else kind of hated me. N-Not like I can blame ‘em… Why is this important, again?”

Her therapist met her gaze with his ugly, typical brown eyes. “It’s important because death hurts, Iruma-san. I know that, too. You need to go back to how you were feeling in that moment, when that person died. You need to be honest about what about that death haunted you, and only then can you move on.”

What the hell? Why was he talking like he knew from experience? What the fuck did he know about watching someone get executed right before your eyes? “With all due respect, _Sir_ , what would you know about death?” Despite her obvious effort to remain polite, her anger was seeping into her words.

“I know a few things about loss,” her therapist told her. “It hurts, I know. That’s why I need you to be open about it.”

“Are you comparing your life to the killing game?” she hissed. Did this motherfucker seriously think that they were even remotely similar to each other?

“That’s not what I mean,” he insisted. “I’m just saying to let your emotions loose. How did you feel when Akamatsu-san died in front of you?”

“How did I feel?” she echoed, barely more than a whisper. “How… How the fuck do you _think_ I felt?! She was fucking choked until she was nothing more than a lifeless shell hanging on a rope! And then her body was crushed by the spikes on the motherfucking piano, because allowing us to see her body intact was too much for us. We didn’t _deserve_ to see her in one goddamn piece. There. Well, _Sir_ , do you know how that feels?”

Her therapist examined her with a wary expression. “All deaths hurt, Iruma-san. I’m not trying to argue with you, I’m trying to sympathize with you in a way that makes you feel more comfortable.”

“Sympathize? You can’t sympathize with me, because you don't know how I feel!” she screamed, her hands clenching into fists so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. “Do you know how it feels to remember the blood of all the people before you, and think: if I don't do something soon, I’m going to be one of them. Do you know that, Sir? Do you know how it feels to know that your own life is racing on a clock, and if it’s not _you_ , then it’s someone else. Do you know how it feels to think: if I don't kill this person, then someone else will kill me. Do you fucking know _that_? Do you know how it feels to plan a murder and feel completely and utterly _disgusted_ with yourself? Do you know how it feels to feel so… feel so trapped? Like there’s nothing else you can do? Do you know how it feels to fall to your knees when your plan crumbles apart, and to have someone  _choking_ you? And d-do you k-know how it fucking f-feels to die and think that this is what you deserve?”

The tears fell down her face faster than she could stop them, and soon she was an absolute pathetic sobbing mess. She wasn't a goddamn queen. She was absolutely nothing.

Her therapist gripped her hand, a smile on his face. “That’s what I meant, Iruma-san. That’s what I meant when I said that I wanted you to open up.” His smile was genuine, and it made her sick.

Was this what she was to him? Some sort of guinea pig? Someone whose emotions he could play with until she snapped? Someone who he could mess around with until he got the desired effects? She couldn't do this.

“See?” he continued. “I have your best interests in mind.”

She stood up and punched him square in the face.

* * *

For someone who could be as stone cold as Tsumugi Shirogane, Miu had to admit, her office was awfully hot.

“Iruma-san,” Tsumugi stressed. “You punched your therapist.”

Miu rolled her eyes. “So fuckin’ what? He had it comin’. I couldn't stand him, and I’m glad that I did it.” She knew that she should feel ashamed for acting out in violence, but that felt so goddamn good. The adrenaline was still coursing through her. She was so used to being the doormat… To be the one in control, even for just this once, felt impossibly good.

Tsumugi sighed, rubbing her temples. “I really don't need to worry about this along with everything else.”

Miu felt her hands practically shake from the way those words made her feel. “That’s all we all to Team Danganronpa, aren’t we? Problems that you have to take care of? You’re seriously pissing me off.”

Tsumugi wasn't frightened of her show of power, though. She knew that Miu was nothing more than a piece of fiction surrounding herself in lies of her own. “What’re you going to do? Punch me? That’s Momota-kun’s thing, really.”

Miu swore she could feel the hairs on her neck stand up. “The fuck are you talkin’ like I have a goddamn script to stick to?”

Tsumugi looked her directly in the eyes. “I wrote you, Miu. I think I know you better than you do.”

Miu felt a shiver run down her spine. For the first time in a long while, she felt self-conscious of the things she was thinking.

“I’ll assign you a new therapist,” Tsumugi told her, annoyance seeping into her tone. “Try not to attack the next one. They just want to help you.”

“They’re doing a shitty job,” Miu muttered. “Stop fuckin’ acting like you know what it’s like. You were the mastermind, in case you forgot, virgin. You don't know what it feels like. And don't give me that ‘I wrote you’ crap- you can write a person, but people change. And if it’s what it takes to be my own person, then I’ll be the most unpredictable motherfucker in the planet.”

Tsumugi pushed her glasses up her nose. “I have a meeting to attend in a few minutes, so please get out of my office as fast as possible.”

* * *

“Woah,” Kokichi commented when she stormed into the kitchen. “You’re fuming. What the fuck’s up with you?”

 _Unpredictable_ , she reminded herself. _I can’t be me_. _The only way to get away from Danganronpa is to not be myself._ “It’s nothing, really, don't bother worrying over me,” she insisted in a calm tone. “How are you doing, today?”

Kokichi blinked. “What are you doing? Stop. I hate it.”

Miu’s right eye practically twitched. “I’m being nice. To you.”

Kokichi raised an eyebrow. “Why? You’re an ugly bitch, so your personality might as well match the way you look.”

“Yeah, fuck this, I’m over it.” Miu sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I punched my therapist, yada yada. Four Eyes got all pissy about it and said that she wrote me, and that she knew me better than I knew me, whatever the fuck she meant by that. Anyway, I wanted to be a different person just to make her angry, but that lasted for five seconds. Probably ‘cause your rude virgin ass wasn't worthy of my time. I just… wanted to be different from what Danganronpa made me, I guess.”

“Holy shit,” Kokichi gasped, “you punched your therapist? Nice.”

Miu rolled her eyes. “You’re so goddamn annoying.”

“At least I’m not a dumbass like you,” Kokichi insulted. “Geez… You know, if you change yourself, that’s not showing Shirogane anything. Not only does it not prove anything to her, you’re just lying to yourself. I hate liars. Wouldn’t the best way to get away from what Danganronpa wants be to just be you? Don't get me wrong, you’re ugly and smelly, but if you focused more on improving your life rather than improving yourself, wouldn’t be enough of a ‘fuck you’ to Danganronpa?”

That was… surprisingly genuine, from an asshole like him. Maybe he felt guilty or some shit about Tenko. It really wasn’t his fault, but she wouldn’t comfort him for shit. Even so, she appreciated his horrible attempt at making her feel better. It actually kind of worked, but she would never say that to his face.

“I guess,” she agreed, albeit reluctantly. “I don't know. I think I’m just gonna… stop caring. Yeah. That’s my New Year’s resolution, except it’s not a new year and it’s probably a bad idea.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything but the worst from you,” Kokichi sing-songed. “So.. in a way, you’re meeting all of my expectations! Look at you go, being an ugly whore!”

“Virgin twink,” she returned.

“Bitchy cunt,” he replied.

In ended in Miu throwing a cereal box at him, which caused him to dramatically collapse to the ground and scream in fake pain. Kirumi had to come in and scold them both, but Miu felt much more relaxed than she usually was when she walked out of the kitchen.

* * *

“Yumeno-san,” Miu heard Kirumi whisper in Himiko’s ear when she was serving lunch. Perks of having golden hearing, she guessed. “You must eat something. You haven't eaten all day.”

Himiko shook her head. “Why should I eat when Chabashira-san is out there somewhere, starving? If she uses any of her money than Danganronpa will be able to track her down, so there’s no way that she’s bought anything yet. She’s probably hungry, and alone… And if she’s suffering, than I should be, too. It’s my fault.”

Kirumi murmured something cheesy, like, “That’s not what Chabashira-san would have wanted,” and Miu sighed. Even after all of them were reunited, it was impossible to stay together. There really was no clear solution to how horribly separate they all were from each other.

In was in that moment that Miu decided that she didn’t want to waste away. She wanted to live on the best she could, and with the people she trusted. She wanted to spend time with friends, and watch dumb TV shows, and pretend like she could still be a typical teenager, even if only for a little while..

When Miu finished the last of her lunch, she threw her plate in the sink and didn’t bother to say thank you.

* * *

"Kiibo," Miu beckoned upon finding him in the lounge. "I took a bunch of cookies, but I don't think I can finish them all. Do you fuckin' want some?"

Kiibo looked up from the book he was reading, surprised. When Kiibo had turned out to be a human rather than a robot, she was slightly disappointed, but relieved. Life as a human was much easier than one as a robot. The world wasn't ready for that, yet. (She would miss him saying, "That's robophobic," at every turn, though).

"Oh... Ah, yes, I suppose," he answered. When Miu threw one at him, he just barely caught it. He was still a huge loser, it seemed.

"What's with the scared face?" she questioned. "We're not strangers, now, are we?"

Kiibo hastily shook his head. "No, no! It's just... I always assumed that you would no longer be concerned with me now that I'm human. Being a robot is what you were so entranced with about me in the killing game, correct?"

Miu almost laughed at loud. "Pfft. Typical boy dumbass. I don't fuckin' care if you're a robot or not. As long as you recognize my expertise and superiority, then there aren't any issues." Miu waved another cookie in the air. "Care for another, virgin?"

Kiibo smiled. "Yes, please."

* * *

“Bakamatsu,” Miu called to Kaede, approaching her in the hallway later on in the night. “Let’s go outside.”

“Huh? Are you in the clear to leave the building?”

“Nah.” Miu shook her head. “I meant the roof, dumbass. Not like they’re letting me any time soon, anyway. They know I’m too fuckin’ amazing- I’ll blind those plain motherfuckers on the sidewalks.”

Kaede laughed, her blonde hair bouncing a little bit as she nodded. “The roof is a good idea, Iruma-san.”

Miu scoffed, but she did a poor job of hiding the blush on her face. “Of course it is. I thought of it.”

* * *

“The sun is setting,” Kaede noted. “This is a beautiful setting. I think your genius mind suggested this at the perfect time.”

Miu stared at the way Kaede played with a strand of her hair for a bit too long. “I know. I never bring anything but the top notch results.”

“You know,” Kaede said suddenly, “it’s okay to be vulnerable. I’ll never judge you for anything that you might ever feel. I want to be here for you… You know?”

Miu shook her head. “I’m really fine, Kaediot. I don't need you to come save me. I’ve got everything under control. Honestly… I haven't really been sure of myself, lately, but I’m feeling better. I think. Don't quote me on that.”

Kaede laughed. “I know you say it a lot yourself, but you really are a queen. Queen Miu Iruma of the world. Everyone will bow at your command. Just… don't ever question yourself. No one’s allowed to question the queen.”

Miu rested her head against Kaede’s shoulder, a blossoming feeling sprouting in her chest. She knew that she shouldn't feel the way she did, and that other people would call it gross. But since when did she give a fuck about what other people thought? “I fuckin’ know. That’s what I keep telling everyone.”

Kaede shook her head. “Ah… Ouma-kun kind of told me what happened with you and your therapist earlier.”

Miu practically almost fell over from how fast she took her head off of Kaede’s shoulder. “That hoe said what?!”

Kaede reached out for Miu’s hand, and Miu placed it in Kaede’s. Kaede threaded their fingers through one another. “Well… What he actually said was, ‘Akamatsu-chan, the blonde bitch is going through her midlife crisis. Go help your girlfriend out so I don't have to deal with her.’ Afterwards he elaborated on what happened.”

“That ugly cuck,” Miu swore under her breath. “If he’s dead tomorrow morning, you’ll know why.”

Kaede put her fingers on Miu’s shoulders gently. The soft feeling of someone touching her loomed over her entire body, and she found herself craving more and more. Kaede’s fingers gave a gentle rub against the sides of her neck, pushing downwards. Miu practically melted against Kaede at the soft, but swift touch.

“You don't need to change for the world, you know,” Kaede told her. “If anything, the world should change for you.”

“I know.” Miu tried to sound confident, but it came out as more of a whisper.

The entire world could be watching them, and Miu wouldn’t care. The entire world could be questioning them, and she wouldn’t give a damn. She stopped focusing on what the world would think, and began to focus on Kaede’s soft humming as Miu let herself fully relax into Kaede’s arms. The roof was scratchy and bumpy, but Kaede’s warm arms more than made up for it.

And for the first time in most likely her entire life, Miu _actually_ felt like a queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"I'll be assigning you to Miu Iruma," Tsumugi informed the newly hired therapist._
> 
> _"What happened to her other therapist?" the new member questioned, an eyebrow raised._
> 
> _"There were some... issues," Tsumugi told her. "Just... be careful with her, alright? She might seem tough, but she's delicate. Make sure that she's comfortable before you do anything. She's been through a lot. They all have. Do your best to look out for her, okay?"_


	3. from a former survivor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rantaro doesn't want to be stuck in the past—but there are some things that are impossible to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! itsa me again,, i know this took me over two and a half weeks to update again, but this will probably be how it is from now on. i did put a lot of effort into the planning of this chapter, though, so i hope that you enjoy!
> 
> anyway!! all comments are really appreciated!! they motivate me!!

Sleep didn’t come easy for Rantaro. It never did.

He was the big brother archetype. He was meant to be supportive and understanding, even when others weren't. That was his absolute purpose in life. That was Rantaro Amami’s fate. But, what about _him_? Not Rantaro Amami, but the person behind the written script? Who was he supposed to be? Rantaro Amami wasn’t real, and yet the second he woke up after the simulation, he was.

It was the strangest thing to think about. How something entirely made up could turn into reality the second that it entered the real world. However, in a sense, the simulation did exist. Did that make it real? Did the very existence of something deem it to be real? And, in that case, were they real all along? But, if that wasn’t the case, then that meant that even now they weren’t anything more than fiction.

Once again, he was thinking too much. It was exactly why he never got any sleep. The need to always have something figured out was killing him inside every day. He couldn’t stand the feeling of not knowing if everything was going to be alright. That was why he did what he did in the killing game, and that was why he couldn’t do anything but think right now. The only difference is that there was no Survivor’s Perk. There was no advantage. It was just him, Rantaro Amami.

For the millionth time since he’d woken up, he went down to the kitchen to avoid sleeping. Maybe he’d feel better if he ate something. Then again, that was what he always thought.

He made his best effort to make sure that the stairs didn’t make a sound as he went down them. The last thing he wanted was to wake anyone else up just because he couldn’t sleep.

When he opened the kitchen door, he wasn’t expecting anyone to be there. Maybe Himiko, due to Tenko’s absence, or maybe even Ryouma. He wasn’t expecting Maki to be there. Maki almost never left her room, after all. But, there she was, cutting strawberries.

“Oh, Harukawa-san,” he greeted. They hadn’t known each other very well in the game, but at least they didn’t have any issues between them, unlike others amongst them. Himiko and Korekiyo hadn’t even come close to reconciliation, and Ryouma still flinched whenever he was around Kirumi. “What are you doing down here so late?”

“What does it look like?” Maki responded in a calm tone, not looking up from her task. “These are for Toujou-san. She does everything for us, yet we never seem to return the favor. Since I doubt any of you ever will, I’ll take it upon myself. Every morning Yonaga-san, Ouma-kun, and Momota-kun all ask for strawberries. I’ll save Toujou-san the trouble of making them.”

“That’s a good idea!” Rantaro complimented. “In fact… Maybe we should make her an entire breakfast? All for her. She deserves it.”

Maki was silent for a minute, before saying, “We?”

Rantaro shrugged. “Well… You could use some help, right? I’m not going to sleep anytime soon, anyway, so it doesn’t really matter, does it?” Any excuse for him not to sleep was a good one. He would go crazy if he had nothing to do.

Maki only shrugged. “Fine. It’ll be easier that way, I guess… What are we making?” She looked up at him expectantly, and Rantaro immediately thought of his sisters. The way that they’d look up to him for guidance. The way that they’d ask him for help. The way that they’d-

No. His sisters weren’t real, and none of that ever happened. He didn’t have a family. Not one that wanted him, anyway. And that was the hardest truth, wasn’t it? Waking up after a killing game and wanting nothing more than to see your loved ones—but, you had none. There was no one there to embrace you, and there was a possibility that there never would be.

Was that why the creators had changed him so much? Because the real one was nothing more than… this?

“Let’s do something simple,” he suggested, willing himself to stop thinking so much. It was how he’d gotten into this mess in the first place. “Like… pancakes. Everyone knows how to make those, right?”

Maki flushed, and looked away.

“Harukawa-san,” he began, “do you not know how to make pancakes?”  
  
“I’m skilled with a knife,” she mumbled. “Not… batter. It wasn’t exactly a part of my character to know how to cook. That’s why we had Toujou-san.”  
  
Rantaro almost flinched at that. Maki didn’t truly only see their personalities as characters, did she? Or was it an accident?

“You’re really fond of her, aren’t you?” he questioned, choosing to ignore her wording for the time being.

“Of course.” Maki scoffed. “I mean… Well, who wouldn’t be? She’s actually competent and she puts effort into things. Not to mention she gets little to no appreciation. I don’t think that I could ever do what she does every day without so much as a thank you from most of us.”

That… was true. He’d noticed that not many of them stopped for a minute to truly appreciate Kirumi. In his family, if his mother didn’t get thanked by every single one of them for her cooking, she’d—

 _Stop_ , he willed himself. _You don’t have a family. You don’t have a family. You don’t have a…_

...This wasn’t going to work. He couldn’t believe in something for what felt like his entire life (but was actually only a few days) and then forget about it. It wasn’t who he was. He couldn’t be as strong-willed as he was made to be.

When he looked at it from that way, he supposed that he was neither the person he was born as nor the Rantaro Amami that Danganronpa wanted him to be. It was almost as if he was a separate entity that belonged elsewhere.

“The pancake mix is in the pantry,” he told Maki, breaking their eye contact. He could feel his palms getting sweatier; it was a hot night, after all. He could began to feel the heat truly take an effect on his body. Had the kitchen always been this vulnerable to the heat? He couldn’t remember. “We’d better get started.”

* * *

Kirumi was appreciative, to say the least. However, she was insistent that neither of them do the work again—it was her duty and pleasure, as she’d stated. He knew that those meaningless words weren’t going to stop Maki from helping Kirumi as she pleased. It was funny to think about how an assassin and a maid could have possibly gotten so close. _Or former maid and former assassin_ , he reminded himself. _Or… not former at all. They never were, were they? They have the same skills, yet they can never be what they thought they were once more. Maybe that’s the cruelest thing about Danganronpa._

Rantaro didn’t eat breakfast, usually. It wasn’t because he was purposefully trying not to eat, but rather because he was never hungry in the mornings. It was easier not to eat breakfast, anyway. It always felt like he was forcing down every bite he took. It got easier later in the day, though. The hunger caught up to him. It always did.

“Amami-kun,” Kirumi whispered to him, pulling him to the side not long after she’d spoken with him and Maki. “You tend to not eat breakfast. Is the food unsatisfactory? If there is something that you would rather have, I am willing to make you anything you’d like.”  
  
He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I’m just not that hungry. You take care of the others, okay?” He tried to take a step forward to walk away, but Kirumi grasped onto his wrist all too quickly.

“Yumeno-san is not eating, either,” Kirumi informed him. “Not since Chabashira-san left. You claimed that you want to help me earlier, correct? And that is why you made the pancakes?”  
  
He nodded, not trusting himself to say anything.

“Then help me, Amami-kun,” she pleaded. “Eat. That is all I ask.”

Kirumi was making a bigger deal out of it than it really was, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, right? It couldn’t hurt to eat it once and awhile. He threw two pieces of toast on his plate.

He forced himself not to think about how he had to force down every bite.

* * *

Ryouma played tennis often. He had said that if all else was going to be a lie, he wouldn’t let his talent be. Rantaro had always had a strong sense of appreciation for Ryouma ever since—he always respected the people who fixed their own problems instead of drowning in their thoughts. (Like Rantaro.)

He had never truly seen Ryouma play, though. It was always an— _“I’m going out on the roof, Amami-kun. Make sure to tell anyone if they come looking for me.”_ — situation. However, today, it seemed as if all of Ryouma’s usual partners were busy at the time.

“You don’t mind if I ask you to play with me, do you?” Ryouma asked. “I can’t promise it’ll be fun if you’ve never played before, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d try it out.”  
  
“I can’t say I have played,” he admitted, “but there’s no one better to learn from, right?”

Ryouma grimaced. “... I guess so. Let’s go.”  
  
It was something knew, right? It would be fun. He always liked trying new things.

He was very, very wrong.

It was a rather hot day, but he didn’t let that get to him. He was prepared to face challenges. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was the sudden realization that tennis balls looked a _lot_ like shot put balls from a distance.

Ryouma had served— _“Don’t worry if you’re not good,” he’d said, “it takes practice.”_ —and Rantaro had been ready. He doubted that he could return it, but he was confident that if he kept working on his backhand that he’d get there.

He never even got the opportunity to swing.

The lighting on the shot put ball blanked out the color entirely. It almost made it look… silver. He thought he could handle it; it was nothing big, right? But when it care soaring towards him in the direction of his head, the only thing that he could do was let out a cry.

He dropped the racquet on the ground and ducked his head. He couldn’t let it hit him. If it hit him he’d… he’d…

Once the ball passed, Ryouma frowned. “Are you alright? Sorry. I guess it was pretty insensitive of me to ask you to play a game like this. I didn’t even think…”

“No,” he interrupted, gathering himself up. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

Ryouma opened his mouth again, but Rantaro didn’t want to listen. There was no way that Ryouma would still want to play after this. He’d ruined everything already. It would be better if he left. After all, there was no way that he could do much of anything right now. It was too much. Everything was just… too much.

He ran down the stairs, desperate to get away from the roof. He was normally a cautious person who looked at his surroundings. Not this time. He ran directly into someone, because apparently he wasn’t allowed to not be okay without someone else knowing.

He was about to apologize, but the words died in his mouth when he saw Tsumugi Shirogane standing there.

“Amami-kun?” she asked, a worried expression on her face. “Is everything alright?” She was talking like they’d talked a hundred times. She was talking like they were good friends. How could she be speaking like that?

“W-Wha—I,” he sputtered, looking around. Why was she here? Now, of all times? What was she doing here?  
  
“H-Hey!” she shouted, grabbing him by the waist and supporting him when he began to fall over. “A-Amami-kun? What’s wrong?”  
  
What was wrong? What was wrong? Everything was wrong. Tsumugi’s eyes were clouded by worry. Was did she care? She’d killed him. She’d killed him, she’d killed him, she’d killed hi—

He could see it. Right now. He was looking up after the camera flash to see the shot put ball that had just rolled over his head to catch only the slightest glimpse of Tsumugi Shirogane. She’d ran at him, hitting him on the head with a shot put ball. He couldn’t do anything. It was already too late. The blood that had rolled down his head was warm. Blood was always warm, warm, warm. And in that moment, all his hopes had vanished. He’d died, leaving his friends behind to suffer in the aftermath. In the moments before his passing, all he could think about was his family. His family that didn’t exist.

Tears began to roll down his face. Hot tears. Wet, liquidy… like the blood had. He wiped his eyes as quickly as he could.

Tsumugi embraced him, holding him tight. “A-Amami-kun, I don’t know what’s wrong, but it’ll all be okay. You just need to tell me what happened.”  
  
Why did she care? Why did she care? Why did she—

“Amami-kun,” an entirely new voice spoke. “It’s okay. It’s all okay.”  
  
He looked up to meet the eyes of the person speaking. The blue hair and glasses were gone. Instead, there, standing, was Kaede Akamatsu with a worried frown.

“S-Shirogane-san?” he whispered, confused. Where had she gone? When did Kaede get there? What was going on? Why did nothing make sense?

“Shirogane?” Kaede questioned. “Amami-kun, are you alright?”

Then, it hit him.

It was Kaede. It had been Kaede the entire time. Tsumugi had never been there.

He let Kaede take him back to his room, because he felt too weak to do anything himself.

* * *

Kirumi came to his room to ask him to eat dinner later on that night. He refused, but this time she didn’t ask him to, nor did she say anything else. She merely left, a disappointed sigh all that she left behind.

And not long afterwards, Maki Harukawa arrived in the aftermath of her departure. He didn’t doubt that Kirumi had spoken to Maki about it. And, like usual, Maki decided to take things into her own hands. He _really_ just wanted to be alone right now, but he wasn’t allowed to get what he wanted, apparently. He never was.

“Amami-kun,” Maki regarded him, “what’s wrong? Toujou-san is already stressed out enough about Yumeno-san, please don’t make her worry about you, too.”  
  
Rantaro narrowed his eyes. “Is that all you care about? Toujou-san? Not the fact that something’s wrong with _me_?” He didn’t like the spotlight all that much, but once, just once, he needed something to be about _him_. It was always someone else. Even his sisters—who never existed, by the way—always took all the attention. For once, couldn’t someone be concerned about _him_?

“What? No,” Maki denied. “It’s just, I…. Fuck. I’m not good at talking with people. Or talking in general. I don’t mean to come off as a total jerk, but I don’t know how not to. I’m not exactly the nicest of people. It’s just… Toujou-san has been bending over backwards for everyone, and I can’t do anything about it. But, I can do something for you. So whatever the hell it is, fess up.”

Since when had Maki been so... he couldn’t even describe it. Caring? Worried? Thoughtful? Honest?

“It’s fine,” he muttered, “it’s not a big deal. I just… Hoshi-kun and I were playing tennis together. I realized that tennis balls look a lot like shot put balls. You can imagine how that went.”

Maki winced. “That sounds awful. I mean… did it hit you? Or did you back out?”  
  
“I ran off,” he admitted. “Not my best moment.”

“I’d imagine,” Maki agreed. “Is that all? You know, sometimes I think that I have it rough, but then I remember what you guys are going through. I didn’t die. Akamatsu-san hasn’t touched a piano since we got back, did you know? She’s too afraid. And Shinguuji-kun doesn’t like being in the kitchen when there’s water boiling—or anything boiling, in general.”  
  
“I… didn’t know that,” he told her, voice soft. Had he really been missing out on this much while he was up in his own world? What else was going on that he had no idea about?  
  
“I didn’t either, until this morning,” Maki explained. “I don’t talk to too many people. It’s not something that I do. I know all of this because of Saihara-kun. Besides Momota-kun and Yumeno-san, he’s the only person I talk to on a regular basis.”  
  
She was lonely. That made sense. Once an outcast, always an outcast.

He gave her a smile. “Soon enough, I’m sure you’ll be adding me to that list.”

* * *

Waking up was easier the next morning. There wasn’t a weight down on him; he felt free. He hadn’t felt free since he’d woken up, so that was something new. There was something else, too. A feeling that he couldn’t describe. Something had changed, overnight. Maybe it was that he felt more carefree, or something entirely different—who knew?

“Amami-kun,” Kaede said to him in the dining room. It was breakfast time once more. “Do you mind talking with me for a little bit?”  
  
He sent a side glance to Miu, whose arms were crossed. She was giving him a death glare that could rival Maki’s. “Are you sure that Iruma-san won’t mind?”  
  
Kaede laughed. “It’s alright. It’ll just be a few minutes. It’s—er, it’s about yesterday.”

His heart practically fell in his chest. He didn’t want to talk about this. He _really_ didn’t want to talk about this. But, how could he tell Kaede that? She never had anything but good intentions. It was impossible to deny her something. Not even Maki or Miu could ever turn her down—and _that_ was saying something.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “sure.” He took a seat next to Kaede, and prepared himself for at least ten minutes of what he had long ago deemed as “The Hell of Friendly Concern”—which usually only happened with Kaede and Kaito.

“So,” she began, “Hoshi-kun explained what happened with the tennis ball. Are you going to talk about this to your therapist?”  
  
“No,” he answered. His therapist was nice and all, but she didn’t understand how difficult it was to explain how he felt. _He_ didn’t even know how he felt. “I don’t think it’s too important.”

Kaede frowned. “It _is_ important, Amami-kun. It’s hurting you. Don’t you think that makes it worth mentioning?”  
  
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Not really. It’s not like I’m going to come into contact with something that looks like a shot put ball every day, right? I’ll be fine. I just… don’t want to talk about it.”  
  
“I’m not going to push you,” she told him, “but let me tell you this. When I first woke up, I never talked about the piano to my therapist. He would bring it up, but I would always change the subject. And do you know what happened? He noticed. So, one day, he brought me into another Danganronpa owned building. There was this room that was dedicated to musical instruments. And, do you know what the first thing I saw was? A piano. And, do you know what I did? I had a panic attack. Right there.”

“Oh,” he whispered. “That’s…. That’s awful. He shouldn’t have done that.”  
  
Kaede shook her head. “It was bound to happen someday in my life. But, my point is, if you don’t face something as soon as possible, it’ll catch up to you. It’ll take years to get over Danganronpa—if we ever do, that is. But, if we don’t start right now, it’ll never happen.”

“I don’t know how to start,” he murmured. “I don’t know where to begin. All of you are so busy picking up the pieces, but I don’t even know what pieces I need to pick up.”  
  
Kaede smiled at him. “You know, when you break something, sometimes the pieces are so small that you can’t find them for days and days. But, you’ll stumble across them eventually, Amami-kun. Everything will work out in the end.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah. You’re right.”

* * *

“I don’t know how you can stand to drink black coffee every morning,” he said to Maki one day. “It’s so bitter. How can you stand it?”

Maki shrugged. “I’m bitter. People stand me. You just get used to it, I guess. It grows on you.”

“That’s actually pretty true,” he told her. “Black coffee would be the perfect metaphor to use for you. And, after all…” He winked at her. “Toujou-san loves a black coffee.”  
  
Maki put one finger in her hot coffee flicked it at him. “Shut up.” Despite this, her face was undeniably red. She was wrong if she thought that he’d ever let her live that down.

“Have you seen Yumeno-san around, by the way?” he questioned. “I haven’t seen her in a really long time. Not since…. Well, you know.”

“Yeah,” Maki admitted. “I talk to her everyday. It’s always in her room, though. She never wants to leave. That’s understandable, I guess. I’m not sure that I’d be much different.”

“I don’t understand how they haven’t found her yet,” he complained. “Either Chabashira-san was actually the Ultimate Ninja or the police aren’t too great at their jobs.”  
  
Maki chuckled. “I’d believe either one.”

There was a long moment of silence, and then Rantarou said, “Harukawa-san, when Toujou-san died, what was going through your head?”

“I don’t know,” Maki answered. “I didn’t like Toujou-san all that much at that time. I appreciated what she did, but I didn’t know her very well. But… I think that her execution might have been the worse that I saw. And I saw every single one. To go through so much pain only to fall once more at the very end… I don’t know how she can even wake up every morning with that in her memories.”

“She’ll be alright,” Rantaro assured her. “She has you, right?”

“You have me, too,” Maki informed him. “And Akamatsu-san, and Toujou-san, and everyone. We’re all here for you. You don’t have to place all your burdens on yourself.”  
  
“Neither do you,” he returned.

They both smiled. And they both meant it. Maybe, in another life, Maki could’ve been the sister that he apparently didn’t get in this life. Maybe, in this life, she could be the sister that he wanted.

* * *

“Are you sure about this?” Ryouma asked, expression revealing his concern. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” Rantaro reassured him. “The only way to get better is to face my fears, right?”

There was so many things that could go wrong. There were so many things that probably would go wrong. But, despite all that, he didn’t want to do anything but push forward. It was what Maki wanted. It was what Kirumi wanted. It was what Kaede wanted. But, most importantly, it was what _he_ wanted.

“If you can’t handle it, you need to tell me right away,” Ryouma told him. “You have to promise me that you will.”

“I promise.” He gripped the racquet tightly with his hand. He was ready for this. He could do it. He had already come this far, and he could finish it.

Ryouma nodded, and served. The ball soared right over the net and was headed straight towards Rantaro. He couldn’t _not_ think of Tsumugi, and of how he had died. But, instead of dodging it, he gripped the racquet even tighter, looked to see where the ball was in the sky, and—

He hit it with all of his might.

It didn’t even make it over the net. It didn’t even come close to that. But, he felt thrilled. The feeling of joy and accomplishment both soared through him at once. Even if he’d taken the smallest step in the history of small steps, he’d made it somewhere. He’d gotten it somewhere. He might never get over his fear of all things that looked similar to shot put balls, but that didn’t mean that he had to cower. He could use his own fears to fuel his ability to do better.

From the sidelines, he could hear Kaede and Angie cheering at the top of their lungs. Kaito was yelling something encouraging that he couldn’t make out over Kaede and Angie. And Maki sat along with them. She didn’t even open her mouth, but she gave him a single thumbs up and a smile.

He returned the gesture.

“Hoshi-kun,” he spoke, breathless. “Let’s do that again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Kaede Akamatsu sat before the wooden piano. She stared at the keys for a bit too long. There was no way that she could do this. She couldn't touch this piano—it was too much for her. She began to get up, but there was a hand on her shoulder._
> 
> _"Akamatsu-san," Rantaro whispered, "you can do it."_
> 
> _Kaede took a deep breath, and settled back down. She could do this. She was Kaede Akamatsu, and she had the talent of an Ultimate Pianist. If Rantaro could overcome his death, then she could overcome hers._
> 
> _She pressed her right thumb against a key. She didn't know what it was until it rung out; it was the Middle C. Slowly, she brought her other fingers to the piano. Swallowing her fears, she closed her eyes and played a familiar tune._
> 
> .
> 
> Next up: Angie Yonaga


End file.
